Q: That pool, the one that you ollied up to smith, explain that thing. How deep is it?

A: My friend’s girlfriend had seen it while she was skydiving. He got someone to run recon; it turned out to be a monster of a pool that looked skateable. The thing’s like 15 to 20 feet deep, and even better yet, it has a huge natural roll in to it. Later on we found out it was a pool for horses — Either for washing them, rehabbing them, or sending them to their death.

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;Continue reading →

Who packed your bag? I packed my bag. Where was your uncle’s mother’s sister born? Have you ever met an Arab? Yes, I am a scarab. I am a worm. I am a thing of scorn. I cry Impure from street to street And see my degradation in the eyes I meet.

A shilling life will give you all the facts:How Father beat him, how he ran away,What were the struggles of his youth, what actsMade him the greatest figure of his day;Of how he fought, fished, hunted, worked all night,Though giddy, climbed new mountains; named a sea;Some of the last researchers even writeLove made him weep his pints like you and me.

With all his honours on, he sighed for oneWho, say astonished critics, lived at home;Did little jobs about the house with skillAnd nothing else; could whistle; would sit stillOr potter round the garden; answered someOf his long marvellous letters but kept none.